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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 2, 1896)
HmWATXm. PRESS ASSOCIATION. BV PCBMI33I0N Of HANQ.MS»i*> LY <\ CO.. > CHAPTER XIV—rCoxTisoBi*., fife made a sign to Johnstone, who took Dick in his arms and swung him lightly down the companion-hatch like • 'bundle of hammocks. In two min utes Ik- was In his old seat at the end of the table in the saloon, with his ankles fast to the chair, which in its turn was screwed into the floor. For « long time he did not move. Ho had little hope .left now, but he steeled him* •elf to wait with patience. If any un foreseen chance might yet give him his opportunity. The sunset gun was heard from the shore; it grew rapidly dark. Johngtene entered to light the lamp; In his Hand was a heavy Iron capstan Ijte tald It down upon the table, with the letter lestde It • “Thero'e your choice," he said, f "All right!” said Dick, stoutly Tm ready but you’ll all go, too, my man; you1™Jfost without me.' j,Johnstone laughed brutally. ("Don't you flatter yourself," he said. ‘Vead or alive, you’ll do our business ffer us.” Dick was silent -•’Look you here," said the other, “this •la the way of It, and If you don't un <fcrstand.lt now, you’ll never have the chance pgaln. The brig's standing In straight for Jamestown; she’s not three allies off at this moment; and the flag aifp'e lying rpady for her Just outside the hafter. If you put your name to tut Wfir paper you're a tree man this tdfctutefrTou'll stand in with the rest 4 uS jbr prise-money, and the Use, that’s worth it alt, she’s yours Into the Urgatn. But If you’re fool enough to be obstinate—there’s the colonel upon deck tter* watching; when the guard-boat comes, he gives me a last signal—one— tfco—and before three’s out your neck's rice, and you lying quiet In the hold. ‘ acetfent, gentlemen! An old friend ofBIr Ptffieney's, too; and Just had a lies written to him asking leave to jshois on his way to sign It when he f«£L P'r'sps the admiral would let us buy him ashore tomorrow?' So either wiy we stand to win easy,, d'ye sec?" &e did Indeed see, and that with a supreme anguish of bitterness. Not •yen by loath was he to thwart them, orelear Ma^own name from dishonor. §hla conscience waa without re ebr and Camilla knew the truth; leae two thoughts he anchored him to meet the fury of hie last storm, llie moments fled. The colonel called doWn the hatchway that the boat had loft the flaw-ship. Camilla heard, him shout, and roll upon ner kneea beside a porthole, gasping for air. A second time that Inexorable calm . voice came down to the deck below. Johnstone took the Iron bar In his hand. The boat came alongside, and an of ficer's votes shouted does to Camilla's fainting tend: “Brig ahoy! Throw us n rop« merer Dimly, as one in n dream of horror, aha heard the colonel's answer. "Yoir needn’t trouble to cmw - on board," he called down. In hie smooth oat tones. "This is the Speedwell, cap tain Eiteeurt. He Is an old friend of Admlsal Mgloolm and Is just writing to him fpr Iasve to anehor. Johnstone!" tejtahoutod, louder still, “ask the cap ' tain if his letter's ready." "Do jion tear?” said Johnstone, bal ancing the ter In both his hands. "There’s tbs last signal Now then— The clear votes of the officer outside rang through the ship and drowned bin "Estoourtr It cried. "Pass In, pass la! The Emperor’s dead!" A eMAPTBR xv. . ILBNCB followed' the words, that I seemed as If It would last forever, lit was as though | that cry had; atunocd at one blow ; all on board the ! brig. . I At last the iron ! bar fell clanging ; from Johnstone's ■ hands . upon the j floor of the saloon, and Dick sprang up. struggttog fiercely In his fetters. “CamUlat'-Camllla!" he shouted. She hoard his voice and awoke to life again, trembling' In every limb. “Ofl flllh these things!” he thundered. And Jobnstope unlocked the Irons with* * word. out Dick Mitten In Ms hand and ran up tfee jp%. The lieutenant from the lagi)ffl, .«u In the act of eprtnglng hoard, "Where le Captain Bst* 'Art you all asleep^ •n ■h .> . . oourtWbeerled. here?**' The (colopel glided .before him, and. M, lowered his voice to speak to Dick. *" >.**We gre all In your hands,” he said. to^** remember, •her A Within ii?: there: 'Castilla npid nth. triumphantly. Jot Mertdenoe against ,_s ssade up. and you'll ■ or swing at the yard»arm Btknd by the bulwark, pushed him back from p."-- »Kh hajtcbw^fs ■ I ., * •* 'M \. The fftfltausat came up as he spoke. “Bstoourt." he ashed,; “have you for : gottea WV 5; -ISofc t wagprer erted Dick: '"and te fe ueyer shaU. though I live to he a thou> -4 V •, ; f -Wen srtdr laughed the other. “But y -Why op I ee desperately in demand ?” m , “Why, you're la the nick of time. I was short*!anded till you came, and Tv* a palr of mutineers on board.” *TUgflfl*mM WUmere. And he palled £:{ svsrvtSe.dMe: “Send three men aboard .there, «|g^ euUssees.' r. , t» . A & - ; life X 9Y HENRY MEzWBOLT The colonel made a rush for.the- main hatch, calling: to Johnstone for help. Dlcfc caught him In time, and handed him over to the men from the flag-ship, giving them the Irons at the same time. "Are they for this fellow?" asked Wll more. "Oh!" said Dick, contemptuously, “ns far as lighting goes no one need be afraid of him: but he's a wretch with out a rag of honor, and his tongue would tjrlst anything less stiff than steel.” The Irons wore on In a moment; the colonel seemed to And them cold, for he shivered pitiably. "Now for the other one!" said the 1 lieutenant. As he spoke. Johnstone came on deck by the forward ladder, and stood there at a little distance from the group, peer ing about him In the lantern-light to see the position of affairs. Dlek went up to him. "Here he Is!” he cried. “Johnstone, you're my pris oner!” Johnstone's right hand went swiftly | to Ills pocket, but before he could grasp his pistol Dick’s fist shot home be tween his eyes, and he fell like a log, disappearing backward down the open hatchway. Two of the men-of-war’s men ran down, and found him motionless at the bottom of the ladder: they brought him on deck, and got a rope to secure him when he should come round. But he never moved again; the fall broken his neck. ~ “Well," said Dick, when they told him. "that seems only Just: he was the bet ter of two bad men, and his punish ment’s the soonest over. As for the other," be continued, turning to Wll more, "a quick death's too good for him, and no prison would hold lilm long.” Be reflected a moment, and then turned to the captive and his gttards. “Bring him below,” he said, and led the way to the saloon. f I" Blok's own scat they placed the •Colonel, with Dick's own irons upon him, and in his hand they made him take the pen with which he had com manded Dick to sign away hi* honor. “Now, If you will please' alone together." gald Dick to the oth ers, "I dare say I Shall soon have done with him." , i : i; worn oui wondering, and he turned to tlio prisoner. "Write the date,” he said, shortly; "and now go on as I dictate to you; “'I-hereby acknowledge and confess that- I conspired with one Herman Johnstone, since deceased, to effect the escape of the Emperor Napoleon from the Island of St. Helena on the Dth of May, 1821, and to levy war again;* the king of France and the peace of Europe; that for this purpose I bribed the said Herman Johnstone and the crew of the brig Speedwell, four of whom I knew to be French subjects; and by fraud and forgery Induced my sister-in-law, Madame de Montaut, and Captain Richard Estcourt to accom pany me, in complete ignorance of the objeot of our voyage.' ” Tha colonel stopped. "But that is not the truth," he objected. “Truth!" said Dick, scornfully; “what la truth to you? Write as I tell you. •very word! And'wait before you sign," h* added; "we want a witness whom your slanders can not touch. Wll more!” he called, and the lieutenant entered. The signing and witnessing done, Dick folded the paper and laid it again' before the colonel, "Address It," he said, "to the Minis ter of Justice at Paris.". The colonel started and drew back. “Deal gently with me," he aaid. In a low voice; “courage and mercy should go ^together." "Courage and mercy,” replied Dick, **aro no concern of yours; your province Is obedience, and, If you can manage It, a little decent shame." ' The address was written. "And now," said Dick, "after writ ing that letter, you will, I think, sec that ft would never suit your health to live in England or France again. To keep you. however, from all temptation of bucIi risks for the present, I oropns** to ask Lieutenant Wllmore here If he will be so good as to put you ashoiv at Jamestown. You have, I believe, some, friends on the island who will j condole with you on the failure of your | enterprise." I "Shall I take him at once?” asked Wilmorfe. The colonel was In despair. "An exile and a beggar! Death would be preferable!" he exclaimed, with a gesture which was a really line piece of acting, and went to Wilmore’a heart. But Dick knew his man better. “All right,” he said, gravely; “you have your choice.” And he took the iron bar from the floor where Johnstone had left it, and raised it above the colopri'a head. The actor’s collapse was swift and lamentable. “Hold him!” be cried to Wllmore; “for Cod's sake hold Mm. He to cap* *oie or anything. “I btfin to think bo,” Mid Pick, low ering his weapon, “since I have learned to outwit you.” '•Well, then,” Mid Wllraore, holding out bis "hand to Dick, “good-by until. ; tomorrow." j "Yes," said Pick, "I'll thank you [ then. Qood-by.” The colonel was taken on deck again, and lowered Into the boat. As they left the ship’s side, he ahWi ' or thought he saw, a white figure lean*-, i Ing over the bulwarks, j "Camilla!” he cried. “Is that you, ! Camilla?” | But there was no reply. The boat’ j -shot forward, and the Speedwell van* i Ished from him Into the darkness^ . j Dick turned to look for Camilla; she t was gone, and he would not follow her j now, for he remembered what the Km-' peror's death must mean to her. 1 The brig was moving slowly In to ! ward the harbor, guided by the lights inboard the flag-ship. An hour after i'ward she dropped her s ichor for ths ■ night and swung round fo the wind. Dick turned in early, but' ho cmiM not sleep; there was still thunder In the air, a remnant of last night's storm • and his mind went whirling Incessant !y through the tangled history of the last few months. A little before dawn he went on deck; It was less stifling in the open air, and stars were shining here and there be tween drifting clouds. He sat down against the bulwark, and looked up at them, listening to the faint lapping of the water under the Ship's sides. Little by little the night lifted, and daylight began to broaden over the sky. The stars grew pale, and died out one by one; a marvelous color, mingled of faintest blue and delicate red opal, flushed In the height of heaven and burned slowly into deep crimson on the horizon to the east. A light wind blew cool upon Ms face; Ms eyelids dropped, and slumber took hint unawares. When he opened Ms eyes again, Ca milla was kneeling on one knee before him. transfigured by a golden light that 3hoiie from behind her through and through the glory of her hair. A strange sense of new life filled him with bewildering prescience of joy. "Where are we?” hb asked, not ven turing to move, lc3t he should break the spell. She bent yet lower over him.' “We are In harbor,” she said; “and look! the sun has risen.” THE END. AN INDIAN BOY’S PONY. An Account nf III* First Attempt to Ride It at n Hnffalo Hunt. Thus led by those dedicated to re ligious service, the tribe leaves its vil lage, the people by families dropping Into line—men, well-mounted, bearing their weapons ready for uac; women, In gala dress, riding their, decorated ponies, older ones leading the pack horses; little children In twos and threes upon the backs of steady old nags, or snugly stowed away In the swinging pouch between the tent-polc3; and the dogs trotting complacently everywhere. Here and there along the lino of the Cavalcade is a lad being ini-< tiated into individual responsibility. He has been upon the hunt before, as one of the family, but this Is the first step toward going Independently un carcd for ns child. ' The father has las soed a wild horse, sadled and bridled him, and now bids his son mount the animal. The boy hangs back; the colt is a fiery creature and already restive under restraint. The father tells hia son that the. horse shall be his own when he has conquered It, but the lad does not move. Tho lookers-on arc smiling, and the cavalcade does not wait. “Get up,” says the father. The boy Rlowly advances, and the colt quickly recedes but the boy, grasping his mane, swings himself Into the sad dle. The father lets go, and so does the colt -rears, Jumps, wriggles, hump3 his back like an infuriated cat. stands on his fore-legs and kicks at his own tail. P«ws the air and stamps the earth, but the boy clings to him until wdth a sud den jerk the saddle-girth is broken, and he is landed over the head of the ex cited creature, which runs for dear life and liberty. Brought back, .protesting by twists aud shakes of the head, he is again mounted, and again frees him self. After two or three repetitions of this sort of thing, the boy becomes angry, and tho mother grows anxious. She runs to her son as he Is scrambling up from the ground, feels him all over, and moves his legs and arms to see If he is hurt. Ho is Impatient at the de lay; he is going to master that ponv now or die for it. This time he stays on. In vain the animal lashes himself into foam and fury; the boy sticks to him like the shirt of Nessus, and the father at last leads the Indivisible pair between tho tent poles which trail be hind a sophisticated family horse, and there, fenced In, they journey all day, trying to get used to each other. The pony does not see hie way out of the poles, and Is forced to keep up with the procession. THE CHINESE DOCTOR. Re Killed the Snake In the Patient' Ito«It with a Pin. “When I was acting American consul at Amoy. China,” aaid Dr. W. E. Fales, “one of my employes fell sick with e. severe attack of rheumatism. Ho stood the pain bravely for three days, refus ing all ‘foreign devil medicine.’ and on the fourth sent for a native physician. The latter duly arrived and began prep arations for treatment of the malady, which he announced to be due to the presence of a ‘darting snake’ In the sufferer's body. Incense sticks were lighted and placed just outside the door, and also In the room. A pack of fire crackers was set of and a talismantc paper pasted to' the wall. This was done to drive away evil spirits and at tract good ones. The doctor next wrote a lot of characters on a thick piece of paper with a vermilllon pencil and set Ore to It. It burned Into a black ash, which was broken Into a cup of water and drunk by the patient. A great bowl of herb tea was made, of which a cup an hour was the allotted dose. The son of Eaculaplus next bared the body of my servant and drove deep into It at nine points a long needle mois tened, with peppermint. Ho did It with such skill In avoiding large blood ves sels that the hemmorrhngc was insig nificant. He then covered each acu | puncture with a brownish paste, and this, in turn, with a piece of dark paper, i He then collected his fee, 50 cents, ami | departed. The sufferer soon fell Inin ! a sleep, and the next day announced | that his pains bad departed. He ro | matned in his bunk two more days, j laughing, chatting, smoking cigarettes I and once or twice using the opium pipe, and then reported as being well. He left the paste and paper in place until! they fell off. The skin was smooth and 1 the scar hardly perceptible. He took 1 his recovery as a matter of course, his' only comment being that the darting, snake was thoroughly dead.” — New j York Recorder. j v'j V.~- : THAT SHODDY TARIFF HOW THE WORD WAS “SNAKED” FROM OUR RECORDS. It*markable Illustration of Oar Imports of Raffs Under Protection and Free Trade—Foreign Raffs to Be IVorn on American Boys. ! "Anticipating that their bill would flood the country with shoddy they (the Democrats In congress) were careful to ‘snake’ that odious word entirely out of the now law.” This, from the New York Press, is hardly accurate. The word shoddy does appear in section 279 of the Gor inan tariff, where the tariff is reduced to a 20 per cent ad valorem rate from the specific duty of 30 per cent per pound that existed under the McKinley law. This was equivalent to an average though thoroughly rotten. The Increase in these importations during the first year of the new law has been so great as to exceed the entire yield of scoured wool produced in the annual clip of our two largest wool growing states of Cali* fornia and Texas. 'But the free traders sometimes ob ject to comparisons being made with 1894, so let us look back to 1893. And aB they have “snaked” the word shoddy from their statistics we will accommo date them by using their own term rags. Here are the imports of rags for the two fiscal years ending June 30,. 1893 and 1895: Imports of Foreign Rags to be Manu factured Into Clothing for American Men, Women and Children. Year ending Quantity. June 30. Founds. 1895, Free-Trade.14,060,054 1893, Protection. 35 Increase of Free-Trade Rags.,14,066,019 Under the McKinley tariff the protect tlonists were not ashamed to call this stuff shoddy. But the free traders shirk shoddy and “snake” the word out of their statistical reports. But what’s in a name? There are the facts. Farm ers can tell the quantity of rags that are being used in place of their wool. The people can tell the quantity of for eign rags that they must wear on their backs, besides ail the shoddy goods that are coming from Yorkshire. And every body knows the increase in our supply of foreign free trade rags. Senator Hill did well to stigmatize this shoddy tariff as “a rag-bag production.” How Other Market* Capture 17a. For^\(Uito CttA«£9 swdntoAte IfoswVete <J tV Untied. States tWirj&tVe two ^taVWrs Endxwj June 30 ? 1894 »Md 1895\ \ J ad valorem rate of 52Vi per cent, so that the reduction made in the rate of duty by the free traders was 71.43 per cent. Now as to the “snaking.” This has been done by the bureau of statistics of the treasury department. Under the McKinley law all of‘these adulterants were classified together as shoddy, noils, waste, rags, mungo, flock, etc., etc. For purposes of comparison it i3 necessary to use the same classification, although under the Gorman law they are returned under different heads— some free and some dutiable. The total showing is a bad one for the free trade tariff law. But we don’t intend to al (fioj6, Noils, end Ukste) SH000Y Produced in Foreign Countries nt Marketed inti* UnitedStotes -14 titiUionPwMt I10M.W Ptai»J -II minim Pound*— n uodnJ —-10 million Pound*— B million Pounds— -6 million Pounds— V ■■■ '■ ii V : —*t million Peundt—■ ——2 million Pound*— ^-35 Pounds low them to escape from the responsi bility of having made a law which ad mits free of duty, as in the case of rags, or of such a trifling duty as that upon Shoddy. The fact remains that the imports of all of these wool adulterants have in creased in one single year of the new law over 16.000,000 pounds above the Imports of the same articles during the whole four years of the McKinley law, and as they were once scoured wool, worked over and over until they had lost the length and strength of fiber and durability of pure new wool, they are still as clei . as scoured wool. A “VttHt lloon” Worked Out. “They (woolen manufacturers) are Just beginning to reap the Incalculable benefits of free wool and will find in it untold millions, as have -the English, v/ho annually export $100,000,000 worth of woolen manufactuies and worsted and woolen yarns. In another decade, if not deprived of this vast boon, they will begin to rival England in such ex ports.”—New York Herald. Only Mr. James Gordon Bennett’s hired assassin of American industries could have conceived this great idea. It is true that the English exported $100, 000,000 worth of woolen goods in 1894. But let us see what they used to export before their free trade system ruined them. Here we have it: British Exports of Woolen Goods. Year. Value. 1872 .....£38,493,000 1894 ...M.;.. 20,011,000 Decrease under Free-Trade. £18,482,000 In a trifle more than two decades, the English free trade policy has reduced the British exports of woolen goods by $90,000,000 a year. This represents the “untold millions” that the British man ufacturers find every year in “the in calculable benefits of free wool." As Mr. Bennett puts it, “in another decade, if not deprived of this vast boon,” they will be exporting only $45, 000,000 worth of woolen goods and will have lost another $45,000,000 worth of export trade in woolens. Again, “in another decade, if not deprived of this vast boon” of free wool; they will be ex porting nothing. By that time, in 1915, should the same “vast boon” of free wool have continued for American manufacturers, “ they will begin to ri val England in such exports.” Fnlltxar’a Political Economy. “The decrease in the values of bread stuffs exported between Jan. 1 and Nov. 1 reached 17,433,000. These figures, however, do not represent decreased exports.”—The. World, New York. What is the use of telling such a de liberate falsehood, Mr. Pulitzer? If a loss of 17,433,000 in the value of the breadstuffs we have sold be not a loss, what is it? True, the quantity of bar ley, corn, oats and rye sold was slightly larger this, but it brought less money than the small quantity sold a year ago. Was not that a decrease in money to the seller and to the farmer who pro duced it? We sold 5,000,000 bushels less wheat and 1,640,000 barrels less flour, but who offered to pay more money for it than a year ago? If you. Mr. Pulitzer, sold today 5,000 copies of the World at a net price of 350, and to morrow sold 6,000 copies at a net price of only $40, would not that represent a decrease? Would the larger number compensate for the smaller amount of money? Perhaps you have money to burn and print papers to burn. Fm Wool and Manufacturpn. In the woolen trade of Massachusetts the product value was 75 per cent less in 1894 than in 1892, the output of the woolen mills in 1894 being less even than the output in 1885. In fact, the threat of free trade in wool bad the effect of throwing the condition of the woolen manufacturing interest back ward one fell decade. KILLING A BIRD. How Hie Act Affected • Boy with a Toy Gan. A 10-jear-old boy of Newtonville was given a toy gun by his father, who laughingly promised him $1 for every crow he woul<| shoot, says the Youth's Companion. Highly elated with his gun and san guine of earning a small fortune by shooting crows, the young sportsman spent the great part of two days in a field watching for the birds. Not a crow came near him, greatly to his disappointment, and he reported his ill success to his father, who said, to comfort him: "Well, never mind the crows. I’ll give you half a dollar for any kind of a bird you can shoot.” Early the next morning the boy, gun in hand, took up his position in the back yard to watch for sparrows. A half dozen or more unwary birds soon appeared to pick up the crumbs that he had thrown out to lure them within reach of a shot. At a movement on his part the sparrows rose and the boy fired. One of the birds was hit and fell to the ground, where it lay for a minute fluttering its wings, and then became motionless. The boy went forward, picked it up and looked at it. The poor little head hung limit—the shot had broken the sparrow’s neck. For a mo ment the boy stood contemplating the dead creature in his hand; then he turned and fled, to the house. “Oh, I’ve killed it! I’ve killed it, mamma!” he cried, in a shocked tone. “It can’t fly any more!” and all that day his lament was, "Oh, I wish I hadn’t done it! I wish I hadn’t done, it!” His father, who had not supposed the boy in any danger of hitting a bird, tried to solace him with the half-dollar and suggestions of what might be bought with it. “No, papa,” was his sorrowful an swer. “I don’t want it. I wish it could make the sparrow alive again. I never thought it would be like that to kill a bird!” “And," said his father, In concluding the story. “I was more pleased at the tender feeling my boy displayed than I should have been had he become the best shot in the state.” STORY OF "BILL** HERNDON. Dow Unooln’s b* Fortner Loit Hie Fortune and Died o Pauper. Washington Star: I was talking to a lawyer from Springfield, 111., the other day, and he told me that the grave of “Bill” Herndon was to be appropriately marked with a neat stone, presented by the bar. The story of Bill Herndon is a pathet ic one. He was n law partner of Abra ham Lincoln, and did not suffer very greatly when compared with his illus trious associate, sh‘ lar as legal attain ments were concerned. As a result of his practice he acquired a competency, although not a large fortune, and, pur chasing a farm, retired from the prd fession and devoted himself to fancy farming. His attempts at this were ludicrous. There was no crop about which he did not possess some pet the ory, which he would argue out to his friends as being the only philosophi cal way. While as a rural philosopher he was very able, as a farmer for profit be was so complete a failure that in a few years he was without a dollar. Then he tried to practice law again, but his mind was not what it once was, and he drank to excess. Then the once gifted jurist went to the eounty alms house, where he died. Members of the bar gave him a respectable burial; but his grave has been neglected. Now, I am Informed, his memory will be per petuated with a suitable tablet, for Herndon did much for the jurisprudence of Illinois, and was so closely associated with Abraham Lincoln for many years that the misfortunes and mistakes of his latter years are obliterated and only his successes remembered , The Curt Enormous- Armj. The czar has the largest standing army in Europe. Twonty-flv« years ago the peace establishment of Russia amounted to three-fourths of a million and its war establishment one-half million more. To-day the standing army on a peace footing is one and one quarter millions and the war footing in Europe—not to mention the Asiatic provinces—is estimated at four mil lions The Russian reserve, not esti mated as a part of the ordinary war footing, would raise the total to five millions in an emergency. And even this enormous number does not take reckoning of the Asiatic provinces. The Cossacks, an irregular body, give mili tary services in lieu of taxes. They number about one-quarter million men, and are chlfrfly cavalry.—Chicago Tlmes-Herald. Ha Fait Cnmiaaad "It’s more’n self-re speck kin bear,” •aid Meandering Mike, "I'Ve got er mighty good notion ter quit de busi ness.” “An’ work?” “Dere’s no tellin’ what human na ter’ll do Wen it’s desp’rH. I feel ez if de las' stror bed been piled on de camel’s back.” “Hev ye ben refused cold Tittles agin?” "Right erlong. An' de women dat rides bicycles is offerin’ me deir east-off clothes.” In Kndnring Unity. Between the mortal and immortal worlds no gulf is fixed. Above all, and binding all in enduring unity, is the community of aim and spirit which keeps those who love and are loyal hand in hand and foot in foot, though seas divide, there hangs between the im penetrable veil of death. i